Narnia: The Privilege of Omniscience

Religious allegories and metaphors are sometimes a bit tricky for me to handle because a lot of times they seem to depend on access to information that, in theory, many of us simply don't have. Or, on the flip side, to the obscuring of information that we sometimes tend to not notice.
A good example of the latter would be the case of Pascal's Wager. On the face of it, the wager seems kind of logical: either the atheists are right or they are wrong. In the case that they are right, it doesn't matter what we do in terms of belief because we all (presumably) fade into oblivion when we die. In the case that they are wrong, it potentially matters a great deal what we do in terms of belief because unbelief could end up with us being tormented for eternity. Sounds like an easy bet to make, right? (It all sounded very logical to me as a kid in private Protestant school, let me tell you.)

But eventually someone points out that this bet carefully obscures the reality that there are a lot of different postulated gods and goddesses and so the wager isn't nearly so simple anymore. It's not Atheism Or Christianity anymore, it's Atheism Or Christianity (Catholic, Protestant, Mormon, etc.) Or Paganism Or Judaism Or Hinduism Or Islam Or Etc. (Given the plethora of choices, atheism almost seems like the safer way to go: at least I didn't worship your rival, ser!) And the only real rebuttal I know of against this point is that anyone who studies Christianity hard enough will admit that it's Obviously the true religion to choose and anyone who claims otherwise is Wrong. So I don't much care for Pascal's Wager because it seems to hope that we'll forget that there are more options on the table and I don't like it when data points are obscured, whether it be deliberately or accidentally.

And then there's the Narnia series, which strikes me as an example of the former, of providing information we don't normally have access to -- and which the other characters most definitely do not have access to -- and then using that to ask us to draw conclusions from there. It's hard for me to grapple with.

For instance, we know -- you and I -- that in the Narnia-verse, Aslan exists. We know that the White Witch fought him, and that as part of her rivalry with him, she made the lives of many Narnians miserable. We know that she plagued Narnia with a hundred-year winter and that she turned innocent squirrels to stone and she raised an army to engage in a bloody and brutal civil war for control over a country that she had no real claim to and wasn't managing in good faith (see: winter and stoning above). We know that the Pevensies put a stop to her reign and we know that Aslan aided them and we know that since those acts were, on balance, probably genuinely Good Things, we know that Aslan and the Pevensies are capable of doing Good Things.

We know all that because we were, essentially, there. We read it. And we read it in a source that we essentially accept as correct because this is Fiction and not History. By which I mean that I accept at face-value everything that Philippa Gregory writes about Mary Boleyn, but I accept with significant care and skepticism anything that Eustace Chapuys wrote about Mary Boleyn, because I instinctively understand the difference between a fiction author writing a character and a complex-and-fallible person recording the life and actions of another complex-and-fallible person. And if someone were to try to use my acceptance of The Other Boleyn Girl to argue that I should therefore read the history of Mary Boleyn a certain way, I would be right befuddled and perplexed. The two, after all, have essentially nothing to do with one another except for how documentation of the one lead to the fictional representation of the other in the author's mind.

In this chapter of Prince Caspian, the young Caspian will go about the Old Narnians taking what essentially amounts to a roll call and ultimately building support for a civil war. And the people he meets -- the animals, dwarves, various mythological beings -- will react to him in very different ways. And that's all fine and good, and in fact is very realistic after 1,300 years of oppression by Caspian's forebears and abandonment by Aslan. But what doesn't strike me as totally fair is that we already know that Aslan is Good, the White Witch was Bad, and anyone who feels otherwise is quite mistaken within the scope of the narrative.

This bugs me since just because we know it, doesn't mean the Old Narnians should be expected to know it. Thirteen hundred years have passed. Can you think of anything you know from 1,300 years ago that wasn't preserved and written in a book for you to read and which isn't a part of your daily see-touch-feel-taste life for constant and immediate verification? Because I can't, not for myself. And the Narnians don't have the luxury of history books while they're constantly dodging the threat of genocide. So what I think I'm trying to get at is that I feel like I have access to information that the characters don't, and I feel like I'm being asked to judge them on those grounds. We'll see if you feel the same.

NOW BEGAN THE HAPPIEST TIMES THAT Caspian had ever known. On a fine summer morning when the dew lay on the grass he set off with the Badger and the two Dwarfs, up through the forest to a high saddle in the mountains and down onto their sunny southern slopes where one looked across the green wolds of Archenland. "We will go first to the Three Bulgy Bears," said Trumpkin.

I don't understand the opening line of this chapter because "the happiest times" seems kind of longish, but it's really only a couple of days before the war starts. I mean, maybe we're in Twilight-time and it's actually longer, but it doesn't feel very long to me. And while I imagine it could be very lovely to find out that the mythology you'd always dreamed of is real, I feel like preparing for a war and meeting people who are ultimately going to be dying on your behalf could be kind of stressful for some people.

So I'm kind of stumbling over both the "happiest" and the "times" and additionally I'm interested in the fact that a still-a-child prince who has been (presumably) waited on at least a little bit hand-and-foot in his life adjusts so well to his sudden revoking of privilege, but then again, I can't tell from the text that his privilege has been revoked. Is he lighting fires and cooking meals and helping out around the cave, or is Trufflehunter doing all his work for him?

Anyway, they go off to consult the Bulgy Bears who will be -- like many of the Animals in this book -- stereotypically silly and deeply reverential of Caspian merely because he is a human being.

And when everything had been explained to them (which took a long time because they were so sleepy) they said, just as Trufflehunter had said, that a son of Adam ought to be King of Narnia and all kissed Caspian -- very wet, snuffly kisses they were -- and offered him some honey. Caspian did not really want honey, without bread, at that time in the morning, but he thought it polite to accept. It took him a long time afterward to get unsticky.

And, well, I think the treatment of Animals in this book is just going to be one of those Your Mileage May Vary things.

I, personally, do not like it. I don't like it because it seems to indicate that form dictates behavior and personality in a way that I'm not at all comfortable with because of the various implications contained therein for Otherkin and Transgendered peoples. I don't like it because I have a good deal of experience with animals in my personal life and I see a tremendous variety in personality within the same species, and even within the same genetic family. I don't like it because the variety displayed among the Pevensie children and the Caspian family, combined with the non-variety displayed within an animal species, normalizes "Human Being" as complex-and-varied and pigeonholes Animals as stereotypes, and that reminds me uncomfortably of the normalization of White, Straight, and Male in our society.

And I don't like it because the stereotypical Animal behavior seems to me to be almost always displayed as something worthy of mockery, even when I disagree. (So I feel like I'm being needled by the text to laugh while I do my thing where I cross my arms and give my Nofunnington stare.)

Anyway, the Bears (and a Squirrel that is a chatterbox, because) agree that a Man should be King of the Animals, despite the fact that the last 1,300 years of Men being Kings has worked out very poorly indeed for the Animals. (Hopefully this one will be totes better. The tenth -- or more! -- time is the charm!) But what do the Dwarves think?

Their next visit was to the Seven Brothers of Shuddering Wood. [...] and in the middle of the hole the head of a Dwarf very like Trumpkin himself. There was a long talk here and the dwarf seemed more suspicious than the Squirrel or the Bulgy Bears had been, but in the end the whole party were invited to come down. [...] It took some time to satisfy them that Caspian was a friend and not an enemy, but when they did, they all cried -- "Long live the King," and their gifts were noble -- mail shirts and helmets and swords for Caspian and Trumpkin and Nikabrik. [...] The workmanship of the arms was far finer than any Caspian had ever seen, and he gladly accepted the Dwarf-made sword instead of his own, which looked, in comparison, as feeble as a toy and as clumsy as a stick. The seven brothers (who were all Red Dwarfs) promised to come to the feast at Dancing Lawn. [...] A little farther on, in a dry, rocky ravine they reached the cave of five Black Dwarfs. They looked suspiciously at Caspian, but in the end the eldest of them said, "If he is against Miraz, we'll have him for King." And the next oldest said, "Shall we go farther up for you, up to the crags? There's an Ogre or two and a Hag that we could introduce you to, up there." "Certainly not," said Caspian. "I should think not, indeed," said Trufflehunter. "We want none of that sort on our side." Nikabrik disagreed with this, but Trumpkin and the Badger overruled him. It gave Caspian a shock to realize that the horrible creatures out of the old stories, as well as the nice ones, had some descendants in Narnia still.

The Red Dwarves -- the ones who look like Trumpkin and are named for their soft, fox-fine red hair -- are suspicious, but once they are brought around to the right point of view, they hail Caspian as the true and rightful king, whose health they praise and long for. Then they provide finely worked tools of war: weapons and armor that surely must have cost great effort to make, and which raw materials they must have obtained at great risk to themselves. (And where do they vent the smoke from their forge and how do they ensure the humans won't see it?)

The Black Dwarves -- the ones who look like Nikabrik and are named for their coarse, thick, hard hair -- are also suspicious. But they are brought to the side of Caspian only by expediency, stating that the enemy of their enemy is their friend, and they do not wish him life or health. Nor do they provide gifts of fealty. At most they offer to help with the recruitment, but their offer is for creatures who are Always Chaotic Evil and therefore their offer is openly disdained by the party.

And this... strikes me as rude. And we're back to Knowing Things Caspian Should Not Know.

We "know" that Ogres are mean and awful and aren't like Shrek at all because we were flat out told that in LWW, and we saw them fighting on the side of the Witch. But Caspian has never met or even seen an Ogre. Who is he to say that they aren't like Shrek? (Indeed, who are we to say there aren't Good Ogres in the same way that there are Good Giants in LWW?) Why, he's a prejudiced person, in the sense that he has pre-judged these Ogres before being provided with any proper basis for judging. And yet, it seems like we're to agree with him, for Trufflehunter and Trumpkin certainly do, and we never see any evidence that they were wrong to judge the Ogres as Evil and unworthy of joining the cause.

Furthermore, even if the Ogres are Evil, Caspian's open disdain of the Black Dwarves' offer to do the leg-work to recruit them strikes me as a really poor reaction on his part. The Black Dwarves have already demonstrated that they're pragmatists: Miraz is Evil and is trying to wipe out the Narnians, so they'll cooperate with Caspian if it means an end to Miraz' reign. Simple, straightforward, and logical. Caspian doesn't have to agree with their philosophy, but if he wants their help, I'd expect him to be respectful of it. "No, thank you, I'm not sure we can trust Ogres to represent our common interests" would seem to be a more diplomatic response to the offer rather than "Certainly not, because I am motivated solely by racial hatred." That's a great way to simultaneously sneer at the Dwarves' acceptance of Caspian and to prove that Caspian's reign over Narnia will be motivated not by logic or fairness but by prejudice and racial bigotry. Double-fail!

"We should not have Aslan for friend if we brought in that rabble," said Trufflehunter as they came away from the cave of the Black Dwarfs. "Oh, Aslan!" said Trumpkin, cheerily but contemptuously. "What matters much more is that you wouldn't have me." "Do you believe in Aslan?" said Caspian to Nikabrik. "I'll believe in anyone or anything," said Nikabrik, "that'll batter these cursed Telmarine barbarians to pieces or drive them out of Narnia. Anyone or anything, Aslan or the White Witch, do you understand?" "Silence, silence," said Trufflehunter. "You do not know what you are saying. She was a worse enemy than Miraz and all his race." "Not to Dwarfs, she wasn't," said Nikabrik.

And then there's this.

We know -- we know because we were there -- that Aslan is Good and the White Which is Evil. (Debatably. Work with me here.) Trumpkin doesn't believe in Aslan, but he's good and cheery and kind about it. He's not one of those unpleasant atheists who is kind of a jackwagon about the whole thing, in the same way that Cornelius isn't one of those unpleasant marginalized peoples who is sort of pissed off about the whole genocide deal. And -- totally coincidentally -- Trumpkin is a Good Person who is cheerful and kind and good and loving and sweet and a good sport about being teased by four little children.

Nikabrik doesn't believe in Aslan, either, not really. But he's willing to do so, if doing so would help his cause. (And let's remember that his "cause" is a world where he's not in constant danger of being murdered by genocidal humans. Just in case we forgot.) But he's angry and aggressive in his stance, and what's worse, he's pragmatic. He'll believe in anything if they will help him restore Narnia to the land of his ancestors. Aslan, the White Witch, probably even Tash; they're all the same to him: if they're willing to prove themselves worthy of his worship, it's theirs for the having. If they won't, he won't.

I don't actually have a problem with this theology, but then again I'm one of those Liberal Pluralistic Heathens with flighty concepts of There Is No Wholly Good Nor Wholly Evil Deity, But Rather There Is Potential For Both Good And Evil In Each Of Them. If Aslan or the White Witch or Tash wants my worship, I don't have a problem with posing a bit of an audition. Are you the sort of deity I want to worship? Are our goals aligned?Are you methods such that I approve of them? Existence, for me, isn't good enough -- compatibility is just as important.*

* This is, incidentally, why I hate-hate-hate the sometimes-espoused-online statement that belief in gods -- any gods -- makes people like me one faked vision away from doing terrible things to people. No, it does not! If my gods told me to do terrible things, I would simply stop worshiping them. I wouldn't stop believing in their existence, but Existence is not a necessary-and-sufficient condition for my Worship.

Trumpkin will, once it is proved that Aslan exists, worship him. Existence is enough. (Or, possibly, Existence and Serious Trauma. We'll get there in a later chapter, I promise.) Nikabrik won't be alive long enough to make the choice, but I think that he wouldn't worship Aslan, not until it was made clear to him that Aslan was willing to provide the support that Narnia needs. Existence is not necessary and sufficient for Nikabrik's worship; compatibility is also a requirement.

And -- totally coincidentally-- Nikabrik is a Bad Person who is angry and aggressive and mean in the sense that he doesn't care about Caspian's feelings and he keeps pointing out that Caspian has privilege and prejudice and protections that the rest of Nikabrik's people don't have and never will.

So there's that.

Their next visit was a pleasanter one. [...] there came in sight the noblest creatures that Caspian had yet seen, the great Centaur Glenstorm and his three sons. His flanks were glossy chestnut and the beard that covered his broad chest was golden-red. He was a prophet and a star-gazer and knew what they had come about. "Long live the King," he cried. "I and my sons are ready for war. When is the battle to be joined?" Up till now neither Caspian nor the others had really been thinking of a war. They had some vague idea, perhaps, of an occasional raid on some Human farmstead or of attacking a party of hunters, if it ventured too far into these southern wilds. But, in the main, they had thought only of living to themselves in woods and caves and building up an attempt at Old Narnia in hiding. As soon as Glenstorm had spoken everyone felt much more serious.

Glenstorm will convince the party -- in a mere couple of sentences -- that it's open war they must and should have because the stars say so. And, well, okay, I don't usually make life-or-death decisions based on astrology, but I'll believe in anyone and anything who means to help Narnia! So if this very noble-and-serious looking centaur says that is what we must do, who are we to argue?

The stars are, by the way, ultimately right. They do win the war. But they only win the war after being beaten to near-defeat. They only win because Aslan shows up at the last minute with a bevy of Greek gods and a walking forest of trees. They only win because the Pevensies show up and challenge Miraz to a winner-take-all duel. They only win because Miraz' self-centered and short-sighted advisers decide to goad Miraz into the duel and then murder him in the middle of it. They only win because of conditions that Caspian and his crew could never be expected to foresee or guess at.

By engaging in ill-advised open warfare on the say-so of the centaur, the Old Narnians will lose several of their number (many of them nameless and faceless Black Dwarves). These are lives who might not have been lost in guerrilla warfare, and there's no real guarantee that such a warfare wouldn't have also contained an Aslan-GreekGod-Pevensie-Treachery win therein. (Why not?) They are lives which are lost, and yet are not Caspian's life, nor any of the named characters, and so they are unmourned except in the gee-it's-a-shame-we-have-fewer-soldiers-today by all except, apparently, Nikabrik.

I don't have a point here, by the way, except that it might not be the soundest battle strategy to bar Ogres from your army because you hate them and follow the advice of random centaurs because they talk about the will of the stars. Or maybe it is, I don't know. I've never won a war before.

There Trufflehunter called at the mouth of a little hole in a green bank and out popped the last thing Caspian expected -- a Talking Mouse. He was of course bigger than a common mouse, well over a foot high when he stood on his hind legs, and with ears nearly as long as (though broader than) a rabbit's. His name was Reepicheep and he was a gay and martial mouse. He wore a tiny little rapier at his side and twirled his long whiskers as if they were a moustache. "There are twelve of us, Sire," he said with a dashing and graceful bow, "and I place all the resources of my people unreservedly at your Majesty's disposal." Caspian tried hard (and unsuccessfully) not to laugh, but he couldn't help thinking that Reepicheep and all his people could very easily be put in a washing basket and carried home on one's back.

Meet Reepicheep. You'll either love him or hate him. I love him, but I partly love him because I feel like the narrative makes fun of him. If I felt like the narrative was talking him up all the time as the Best Thing Evar, I wouldn't love him. Because I'm fickle like that.

"Now," said the Badger, "if only we could wake the spirits of these trees and this well, we should have done a good day's work." "Can't we?" said Caspian. "No," said Trufflehunter. "We have no power over them. Since the Humans came into the land, felling forests and defiling streams, the Dryads and Naiads have sunk into a deep sleep. Who knows if ever they will stir again? And that is a great loss to our side. The Telmarines are horribly afraid of the woods, and once the Trees moved in anger, our enemies would go mad with fright and be chased out of Narnia as quick as their legs could carry them." "What imaginations you Animals have!" said Trumpkin, who didn't believe in such things. "But why stop at Trees and Waters? Wouldn't it be even nicer if the stones started throwing themselves at old Miraz?" The Badger only grunted at this, and after that there was such a silence that Caspian had nearly dropped off to sleep when he thought he heard a faint musical sound [...] "Fauns!" cried Caspian, jumping up, and in a moment they were all round him. It took next to no time to explain the whole situation to them and they accepted Caspian at once. Before he knew what he was doing he found himself joining in the dance. Trumpkin, with heavier and jerkier movements, did likewise and even Trufflehunter hopped and lumbered about as best he could. Only Nikabrik stayed where he was, looking on in silence.

The Trees are sleeping. This will be a HUGE plot point in the sense that paragraphs and paragraphs and paragraphs are devoted to them. Most of those paragraphs will be cut, not because they are not interesting or pretty, but because I can't think of much to say about them. Just be aware that they are there, in the background, all the time. WATCHING YOU.

Also, Nikabrik doesn't dance. Probably because he's sullen and evil and terrible and horrible and not because he's sensible enough to know that he'll be grateful for a good night's sleep after today's work and tomorrow's war.

56
comments:

depizan
said...

How old is Caspian supposed to be? He comes off as an incredible ass, but if he's still very much a kid, that might be forgivable. (Youth, inexperience, etc...) I'm really not liking his interactions with his allies, or his methods of decision making. Good thing he's only a figurehead.

Also, the "MUST HAVE SON OF ADAM!" thing really bothers me. Because, as you point out, all of the bad kings have been, you know, sons of Adam, too. Dear Mr. Lewis, your basic premise seems to have an enormous hole in it.

If I ever get hit with a Pascal's wager in person, I'll say "Great" and ask the person who brought it up to help to find the religion who's tenets require the least behavioraly modification and effort on my part, while still requirering servitude to qualify for paradise. After all, I'm not asked to feel god's love or anything, I'm just to make a cold, calculated decision on maximizing my bliss. But many churches ask me to do or not do think I don't feel like doing on my own, like regular prayers, campaigning against gay rights... okay, looking at porn probably too.... And unlike the afterlife risk/rewards, these sacrifices I must make are demonstratably true, so they weigh in for a lot. I'd go therefor with the most liberal religion I could find, except that the most liberal religions generally claim that their god, godess, gods or whatever is a highly judgmental egomaniac who only rewards people that worship him, personally, with eternal bliss while damning the rest. As good, noble or even correct as I may think those religions are, there's no point to joining them, since even if they're right I can still get my eternal reward without joining them. So I'd join a particular religion who believes that you must be a worshipper of their faith to qualify for their heaven-equivalent, but otherwise have very lax requirements. That'll probably not be the religion the person bringing up the wager had in mind. And the moment of realization will give me a tiny bit of bliss in THIS life.

On to the story, yeah, it's quite blatant. Let's accept the Mouse who's a whopping 1 feet tall, but the Ogres? Oh no, they're not our kind of people... antropomorphs... beings... eh, you get the idea. So they have no problem with warfare, or a guirillia war because that's all fun and games, but accepting possibly less-than-saviory soldiers whom we can still trust to not turn on us before our enemy is dead? No, that would be foul. Aslan wouldn't support that. I must say, I don't place too much blame on Caspian here. He's pretty much a little kid judging by the dialogue. This is probably what his half-dwarf teacher told him. He has no way of instinctively knowing they're evil otherwise. It's dissapointing that he's not a bit more critical of these stories, but I place more of the blame on the teacher who, while expousing of the horrible discrimitation the fantastical beings suffer at the hands of the humans, he'll still also tell of the horrible fantastical beings who are deservedly hated.

Speaking of which, hey Aslan? What's keeping you this time you lazy bastard? It's not like he couldn't once again win this war on his own. And there's a suitable son of Adam all ready now. Let's get cracking already.

Ehm, that should be 'stop looking at porn' (There's probably some religions that recommend their members look at more porn, but I'd say they're fairly rare. And at least a little creepy) and "generally DON'T claim".

It is probably Very Wrong of me to like Nikabrik, but I always did. I always saw him as such a sensible fellow, especially considering his circumstances and the situations he found himself in. I often wished that the story was told from his viewpoint and not Caspian's. But then, I also recognized that the author never wrote about characters he disliked, and I always had the impression that Nikabrik was barely tolerated by the author and much of the named characters. (This is something I never fully understood at the age of seven when I first read this. I just thought C.S. Lewis was sometimes mean for no good reason.)

As an adult, I'm pretty horrified at the racial undertones here, the outright prejudices, and how much of a jerk Caspian is. You miss all of these finer details when you're young. Reading them as an adult, I really can't call these stories some of my favorites, because they're just so problematic, frustrating, and a bit upsetting at times.

At the moment, I really dislike Caspian - not even sure his age can make up for him being a jerk. I'm finding myself siding with the more sensible and more empathetic Narnians, like Nikabrik.

I use the term empathetic because Nikabrik and others like him seem to actually care about all who has died, of the predicament of their people. They seem to care more about how to find ways that more can survive and live, than whether or not Caspian gets his pretty, shiny throne. Caspian just doesn't seem to have much empathy for anyone other than those that think like him, which is pretty problematic for anyone that is soon to be ruler over a kingdom.

On the face of it, the wager seems kind of logical: either the atheists are right or they are wrong. In the case that they are right, it doesn't matter what we do in terms of belief because we all (presumably) fade into oblivion when we die.

Unless there's life-after-death which isn't dependent on a god, as in some forms of Buddhism. Perhaps the atheists are right and atheism leads to a better afterlife than theism because it improves your karma or helps you become enlightened or some such. Who knows?

"Silence, silence," said Trufflehunter. "You do not know what you are saying. She was a worse enemy than Miraz and all his race."

"Not to Dwarfs, she wasn't," said Nikabrik.

Again, Nikabrik is completely right here and Trufflehunter is completely wrong. The White Witch was sweetness and light compared to the Telmarines.

Up till now neither Caspian nor the others had really been thinking of a war. They had some vague idea, perhaps, of an occasional raid on some Human farmstead or of attacking a party of hunters, if it ventured too far into these southern wilds.

...why on earth would they have such an idea? What good would it do them to murder a few random Human farmers and hunters, and why would the "good" Old Narnians find that morally acceptable, let alone Caspian? Shouldn't they be plotting to assassinate Miraz and exile his family so only Caspian's left to inherit the throne, or something like that?

Not that the open warfare idea isn't deeply stupid too. The Old Narnians have been getting slaughtered by the Telmarines on the battlefield for 300 years now; it's insane to think that the tiniest Old Narnian army in history is somehow going to triumph using the same tactics.

"I'll believe in anyone or anything," said Nikabrik, "that'll batter these cursed Telmarine barbarians to pieces or drive them out of Narnia. Anyone or anything, Aslan or the White Witch, do you understand?"

Oh my god, he's Ernie Hudson's character from Ghostbusters. I like him. I'm sure that he'll do great evil in the end, but right now I like him.

"Silence, silence," said Trufflehunter. "You do not know what you are saying. She was a worse enemy than Miraz and all his race."

"Not to Dwarfs, she wasn't," said Nikabrik.

Again, Nikabrik is completely right here and Trufflehunter is completely wrong. The White Witch was sweetness and light compared to the Telmarines.

Actually, Nikabrik isn't going far enough. From the standpoint of all non-humans (the only peoples oppressed by both Miraz and the White Witch), Miraz and ancestors are way worse.

You're completely right about the bizarreness of both battle plans. Our heroes were planning to murder relatively innocent people (WTF?) only to decide instead to do the same thing that hasn't worked in the past (also WTF?). How did this ever make sense to Lewis? Or is somehow, from his point of view, plotting assassination worse?

Maybe Lewis mean "happy" as in "lucky"? I mean, it makes a little more sense in that Caspian's lucky that the Animals are willing to listen to him and the Old Narnians he's fallen in with, instead of laughing at him or attacking him.

The idea has been put forward that Lewis is viewing this at least in part as an allegory for a certain part of the history of Ireland, and sticking with ideas that come with that association even when they clash with the world he has built.

Alas, I know nothing about that part of the history of Ireland. For anyone that does, could the initial plan be in reference to that? Attacking farmers and hunting parties might not make a lot of sense as a battle plan, but it is something that has historically been done by people marginalized in their own country.

I just reread this chapter in my old Swedish copy and noted that the translation slightly tones down Caspian's rudeness; his "Certainly not" becomes a quick "No, thank you" for instance.

As for the whole open vs. guerilla warfare thing, the book never actually declares for either. As we'll see next chapter Caspian's army never actually get to make a campaign plan, let alone put it in effect, since Miraz finds them out and seizes the initiative, the rebels being bottled up at Aslan's How. Although it's pretty vaguely described (guess we'll talk about that next week) the war essentially amounts to a Telmarine siege of the wood around the How.

The movie, by contrast, shows the Old Narnians doing some guerrilla-style raiding (stealing weapons and other supplies, for instance) - it's even somewhat implied there was some low-level guerrilla activity going on already before Caspian. This is one more of the things I think the movie improved upon the book.

Other improvements in the movie somewhat relevant to this chapter is that Caspian's army is shown to contain various previously always-evil creatures, most notably Minotaurs, and that Glenstorm and several other Centaurs are black.

The correct reason to like Reepicheep, of course, is that he is voiced by Eddie Izzard. (Yes, that was only in the PC movie, and yes, that has no obvious bearing on the appropriate reading of a novel from six decades earlier. But both of those points are moot because Eddie Izzard transcends time and space.)

My default reaction, when Caspian freaks out at the thought of ogres and hags, is 'Ah, of course, the little sheltered kid is operating on the monster stories he has been raised upon in his racist household, and will have to Learn A Lesson about not believing in stereotypes'. That... is not in any way similar to what will actually happen here, is it? We're not even going to get the reverse, where Caspian goes overboard and says "I want to be EVERY Old Narnian's friend!" and then has to Learn A Lesson about the always-chaotic-evil races. It's just a handwavey "Ew, why would we associate with them?"

I really would like an explanation of why anyone thinks the White Witch was worse than the Telmarine conquest. Unless we only got a tiny picture of Jadis' overall empire, and she didn't just rule Narnia but the entire rest of the world as well, and vastly more horrible things were happening elsewhere. But addressing whether that is or is not the case would require a consistent idea of how big Narnia's world is, over time, which seems unlikely to ever come up. Within Narnia, she seemed to relatively favour the dwarves (and various ACE species), but maybe there are stories about hideous oppression of dwarves in other nations that Trumpkin believes are true and Nikabrik doesn't?

---

Oh my god, he's Ernie Hudson's character from Ghostbusters. I like him.

I am going to end up with a very strange and awesome mental image of this cast by the time we're done.

By the way, I think Lewis [i]meant[/i] for Nikabrik to be a complex and somewhat sympathetic villain - or what would pass for one by Narnia standards - and that his occasionally seeming like the reasonable guy isn't completely unintentional. That said, of course I agree that his portrayal is intensely problematic for a number of excellent reasons as we saw last week.

You're completely right about the bizarreness of both battle plans. Our heroes were planning to murder relatively innocent people (WTF?) only to decide instead to do the same thing that hasn't worked in the past (also WTF?). How did this ever make sense to Lewis? Or is somehow, from his point of view, plotting assassination worse?

Yes, the initial plan appears to be "raid (and murder, but probably only by accident, if they fight for their winter food) some outlying Telmarine civilians, cause we're the Good Guys and we can". I could have some sympathy for this in a situation where groups were regularly clashing over resources, but honestly, the Old Narnians don't seem to need to stuff farmers would have, and there is absolutely no tactical advantage to this. (Either Miraz won't care, or Miraz will respond to his people's plight by sending troops to deal with the raiders. Neither outcomes helps.)

As far as Lewis is concerned, though, assassination probably is much, much worse than killing Telmarine homesteaders, or luring the remaining Old Narnians into an all-out glamorous and chivalric war they cannot win. It's underhanded, and the way Bad People do things. Bad kings take the throne through assassination. Good kings take the throne on the glorious field of battle. There are Rules.

As to whether assassinating Miraz would make any practical sense, that would rely on knowing more than we do about how politically stable Miraz's position actually is, who else is a player, and how the Telmarine government actually functions. It's clear that there is some emphasis on inheritance through primogeniture, or Miraz would not be as nervous about Caspian as he is (unless they do it like the Ottoman royal family used to, and basically, the way to become king is to murder all your siblings/cousins, in which case Miraz may simply be trying to protect his son from Caspian and his circle.)

But primogeniture may not be enough if Caspian assassinate his uncle, and is known to be consorting with Old Narnian rebels. That might be the point where another lord steps up, either as regent for Miraz's boy, or king in his own right. Taking Caspian back as king--a child and a kinslayer--seems improbable.

Yes, the initial plan appears to be "raid (and murder, but probably only by accident, if they fight for their winter food) some outlying Telmarine civilians, cause we're the Good Guys and we can".

The thing is, they'd have to murder any civilians they raid, because they can't afford to have their existence become known to Miraz. That was Nikabrik's point when he wanted to kill Caspian, and Trumpkin seemed to agree with it; he was just more hopeful that Caspian could be convinced not to betray them. The Old Narnians have survived only because the Telmarines have no idea where they are, and believe them to be nearly extinct. The first time a farmer informs the local sheriff that he was attacked a bunch of Dwarfs and talking animals, Miraz will simply do what the Telmarines have done for the last 300 years: raze the nearby forest and kill anything that comes out.

No, any Telmarines they raid would have to be exterminated, and made to look as if wolves or plague or human bandits were responsible.

But primogeniture may not be enough if Caspian assassinate his uncle, and is known to be consorting with Old Narnian rebels. That might be the point where another lord steps up, either as regent for Miraz's boy, or king in his own right.

It's quite possible, although if Caspian took a few Levels in Badass while hanging out with the Old Narnians, it would be harder to displace him by force. His assassinating Miraz probably wouldn't be that big a deal, since it's apparently an open secret that Miraz assassinated the last Caspian and all his supporters. And this particular group of Old Narnians might not be viewed as rebels if they were credited with restoring the Caspian dynasty to the throne; Miraz isn't very popular among his subjects.

And yes, it would be necessary to kill or exile Miraz's wife and kid, no matter how Caspian reaches the throne.

There's yet another problem with Pascal's wager, besides the obvious two of 'Which God?' and 'What if the thing I am doing is somehow making things worse?'.

Now, religions vary. Some religions emphasis on what you do, in which case, as is pointed out by Bificommander, there actually is a downside to following the logic if it keeps you from doing what you want to do, which removes the 'zero' from that side of the equation and changes the entire premise. (OTOH, if the afterlife is solely based on your actions, you can please multiple hypothetical Gods at once, so frankly seems the safest bet if you actually wished to take Pascal's wager. It wouldn't be impossible to hack out some sort of compromise rules that let you follow 90% of the rules of 90% of religions.)

Other religions, however, seem to claim that _belief_ is important, either in part or in whole, and this is where Pascal was coming from.

However, Pascal seemed to be dismissive of the fact that simply 'saying words' and 'belief' are not the same thing. He seemed to think that anyone who concluded that his wager was correct could not help but believe. If they did not immediately, he seemed to think that they either were being dishonest, or simply had not studied the issue enough. (This same logic is, incidentally, exactly how he dismissed the people who pointed out all other religions, because it was obviously all other religions were all bogus...except for Islam for some reason, which he thought was bogus, but he admitted it was hard to notice that without careful study of it. But he thought that God would probably give Muslims and Jews a heaven-ticket anyway, because they were close enough. Pascal was a little weird.)

Oh yes, the actual post...but really...bulgy? I'd forgotten about that. And I agree, I can't help feeling that the Talking Animals were a mistake. Just because Lewis wanted both fairytale talking creatures, and bacon on the plate, they're still more trouble than they're worth.

We "know" that Ogres are mean and awful and aren't like Shrek at all because we were flat out told that in LWW, and we saw them fighting on the side of the Witch. But Caspian has never met or even seen an Ogre. Who is he to say that they aren't like Shrek?

It may be that the Always Evil races are meant to be a representation of the strain of evil in the human heart. And to say that "we don't want any of that sort on our side" is meant to be taken as "the ends don't justify the means."

Of course, I'm not sure how that squares with this half-assed plan of raiding inoffensive farmsteads, but I think that's how we're supposed to interpret this. The conspirators are trying to rebuild Old Narnia, reestablishing the true Law, and that means they don't want to encourage ogre-ish conduct, that is, preying on others. Because that's the classic definition of an ogre: it feeds on human flesh. Being an ogre doesn't depend on looks, it's not being green and warty and squashy-nosed in a cute sort of way like Shrek, or even in a hideous way. Being an ogre means being Grendel in Beowulf: Then his rage boiled over, he ripped openthe mouth of the building, maddening for blood,pacing the length of the patterned floorwith his loathsome tread, while a baleful light,flame more than light, flared from his eyes.He saw many men in the mansion, sleeping,a ranked company of kinsmen and warriorsquartered together. And his glee was demonic,picturing the mayhem: before morninghe would rip life from limb and devour them,feed on their flesh...

That's the tradition that Lewis was calling on. Not this cheerful post-modern literary world of William Steig and Eva Ibbotson and even J.K. Rowling, where the ogres and goblins and hags are, mostly, just people like anyone else, although they have their own cultures and traditions. Lewis's and Tolkien's non-human creatures aren't people, although they may represent certain aspects of human nature. Form doesn't dictate behavior for human beings in real life, or in much of current fantasy literature. For non-human creatures in myth-based storytelling, yes, it does.

Also, Nikabrik doesn't dance. Probably because he's sullen and evil and terrible and horrible and not because he's sensible enough to know that he'll be grateful for a good night's sleep after today's work and tomorrow's war. Sometimes, even when you really need a good night's sleep, it's even better to let yourself be surprised by joy. It's not Nikabrik's fault, but it's Nikabrik's loss.

It would take too long to mention all the creatures whom Caspian met that day--Clodsley Shovel the Mole, the three Hardbiters (who were badgers [sic] like Trufflehunter), Camillo the Hare, and Hogglestock the Hedgehog.

That is mentioning. It's just not giving detail.

challenge Midaz to a winner-take-all duel. They only win because Midaz' self-centered and short-sighted advisers decide to goad Midaz into the duel

One "Midaz" is a typo probably not worth pointing out. However, it looks like you're consistently spelling Miraz with a "d". (Possibly the golden-touch guy is throwing you off?)

Also, Nikabrik doesn't dance. Probably because he's sullen and evil and terrible and horrible and not because he's sensible enough to know that he'll be grateful for a good night's sleep after today's work and tomorrow's war.

I was thinking the sensibility of Nikabrik's staying out was because it's generally not a good idea to be swept up into the dances of supernatural beings.

Trumpkin doesn't believe in Aslan, but he's good and cheery and kind about it. He's not one of those unpleasant atheists who is kind of a jackwagon about the whole thing, in the same way that Cornelius isn't one of those unpleasant marginalized peoples who is sort of pissed off about the whole genocide deal. And -- totally coincidentally -- Trumpkin is a Good Person who is cheerful and kind and good and loving and sweet and a good sport about being teased by four little children.

Because every good, caring, cheerful, kind creature is a closet Aslanite who just needs a blinding moment of clarity to realize what they secretly knew all along, and every gruff, cranky, practical, mean creature is a lost cause who wouldn't *really* be One Of Us anyway, even if Aslan appeared in a golden blaze of glory and trumpets and showed them paradise on one hand and hellfire on the other, so what's the point, really?

It's almost like there couldn't possibly be a friendly, considerate atheist who cares about his friends, or a gay person who really, truly loves her significant other. And of course there would never be a Christ-professing churchgoer who's mean or cranky, or....

Of course, I'm not sure how that squares with this half-assed plan of raiding inoffensive farmsteads, but I think that's how we're supposed to interpret this. The conspirators are trying to rebuild Old Narnia, reestablishing the true Law, and that means they don't want to encourage ogre-ish conduct, that is, preying on others.

I think you're right, but at the same time there's the raiding inoffensive farmsteads thing, which is inherently preying on others. So we have Caspian reject the symbol of preying on others, but not the activity. Which is very WTFy.

That's the tradition that Lewis was calling on. Not this cheerful post-modern literary world of William Steig and Eva Ibbotson and even J.K. Rowling, where the ogres and goblins and hags are, mostly, just people like anyone else, although they have their own cultures and traditions. Lewis's and Tolkien's non-human creatures aren't people, although they may represent certain aspects of human nature. Form doesn't dictate behavior for human beings in real life, or in much of current fantasy literature. For non-human creatures in myth-based storytelling, yes, it does.

Well yes and no, if I get what you're saying.

Saying that Beowulf is the tradition that Lewis is drawing on is partially correct--hell, it's the tradition that everyone who writes in English, or tells a monster-slaying tale draws on. But in Beowulf, there's an actual reason that Beowulf believes Grendel is evil, namely, Grendel eats people. He's not saying "It looks human but it's not!" or "We don't like that sort," he's saying "It's EATING PEOPLE, and a hero stops things that eat people. Lookit me go!"

Speaking of which: the best version of Beowulf ever. http://www.chivalry.com/blackbard/poetry/beowulf.html

"See Hrothgar. He is sad. Sad, sad, sad. His warriors are leaving. They are sad because Grendel has eaten many of their friends. They do not want to play with Grendel anymore because Grendel is mean."

Leaving Tolkien out of this, although this applied to him as well, some, in fact many, of Lewis's non-human creatures are people. The dwarves are people, and the dryads are people, and the Beavers are people. The centaurs are people, and the Talking Mice are people. In this, Lewis is, to my eye, not much different from Rowling at all. They may be people who are presented as broad cultural caricatures, or as good or bad mostly in terms of how they relate to our heroes: once again, how not like Rowling?

So when he says "These things are not like people, they are inherently evil," he's already opened a door for me to say, "What does THAT mean?" Because we really, really, are talking about people at this point.

I think my biggest problem with ACEs, besides the racism that is literally built into the concept, is that there really are exceptions unless the narrative dictates otherwise. LWW and PC has Good Giants, despite the world-building detail that most Narnian Giants are Evil. THAHB and LB have good Calormen. Etc.

For Caspian to just "certainly not!" at the very IDEA of an Ogre is annoying, especially when he's got a Giant in the army that very same day. It looks classist and racist and problematic. For the narrative to insist that he's right to feel he's right to feel that way is additionally irritating; particularly the money quote about Aslan being unwilling to help the army if they had Ogres on their side. NEWS FLASH, GUYS: Aslan hasn't been willing to help you up until now, period.

particularly the money quote about Aslan being unwilling to help the army if they had Ogres on their side. NEWS FLASH, GUYS: Aslan hasn't been willing to help you up until now, period.

That's because we haven't been pure enough. We much redouble our efforts to be self righteous and exclusionary and then the TurboLion will come and save us all. Until then we must be sure not to associate ourselves with the impure.

I can kinda see these being happy times for Caspian. If you're raised and trained to lead people and command armies, I don't know that you'd necessarily have a lot of uncertainty about it. And if you've lived your life longing for a certain kind of world, with a place for you in it, and now you see it can be real, that's a big slice of happy.

This is, incidentally, why I hate-hate-hate the sometimes-espoused-online statement that belief in gods -- any gods -- makes people like me one faked vision away from doing terrible things to people. No, it does not! If my gods told me to do terrible things, I would simply stop worshiping them. I wouldn't stop believing in their existence, but Existence is not a necessary-and-sufficient condition for my Worship.

Also, I just thought, if Animals are big, do they have huge Dragonflies and Spiders? And what would that tell us about the oxygen content of the Narnian atmosphere? Also, giant talking insects? Awesome.

Amaryllis: The Bulgy bears? I hope they weren't the same bears who met Algy?

This is why no Son of Adam named Algy (or Algernon, to be safe) could ever be a King in Narnia.

C.S.Lewis would likely have been familiar with the original version of the Three Bears story, by Robert Southey, in which the Bears are the good guys and the porridge-thief is the bad guy:

One day, after they had made the porridge for their breakfast, and poured it into their porridge-pots, they walked out into the wood while the porridge was cooling, that they might not burn their mouths by beginning too soon to eat it. And while they were walking, a little old woman came to the house. She could not have been a good, honest old woman; for, first, she looked in at the window, and then she peeped in at the keyhole; and, seeing nobody in the house, she lifted the latch. The door was not fastened, because the bears were good bears, who did nobody any harm, and never suspected that anybody would harm them. So the little old woman opened the door and went in; and well pleased she was when she saw the porridge on the table. If she had been a good little old woman she would have waited till the bears came home, and then, perhaps, they would have asked her to breakfast; for they were good bears--a little rough or so, as the manner of bears is, but for all that very good-natured and hospitable. But she was an impudent, bad old woman, and set about helping herself.

>But what *doesn't* strike me as totally fair is that we already _know_ that Aslan is Good, the White Witch was Bad …. … I feel like I have access to information that the characters don't, and I feel like I'm being asked to judge them on those grounds.

You're forgetting that anyone who merely hears the name ‘Aslan’ automatically gets either a good feeling (if they're a good guy) or a bad feeling (if they're a bad guy, even temporarily like Edmund), so all good guys are automatically on Aslan's side the moment they contemplate him. Therefore, you're quite entitled to judge characters based on their reactions to Aslan, regardless of their knowledge or lack thereof.

Trumpkin doesn't quite fit this. However, as we know from _The Last Battle_, atheist Dwarfs are unable to notice anything that they don't believe in, so presumably he doesn't notice the good feeling that he gets when he hears ‘Aslan’. This complicates the judgement slightly, but I don't think that it changes things here.

As a boy with black hair whose name is Nick, I always sympathised with Nikabrik more than I was probably supposed to when I first read these books (I was about seven years old, I think). Of course I wasn't exactly reading critically at the time, so I took what the narrative told me at its word (yes, the White Witch was worse than Miraz! yes, Caspian and the others' plan makes perfect sense! yes, allying with Ogres and Hags is unthinkable! etc.), but when Nikabrik dies I only felt sorry for him that he didn't "turn good" rather than thinking "Hah, Nikabrik got his!"

Speaking of which, Nikabrik's death is a bit of a letdown, isn't it? After being a fairly important character with a speaking role, there's a big confusing melee (which is really only described like "And then there was a big confusing melee") and either Peter or Edmund is like "Oh BTW I just killed Nikabrik." It seems to me like Lewis just wasn't that good at writing action scenes. (There's a bit of a pattern with that -- in both this book and LWW when the final battles happen we don't get to see them, instead staying with Lucy & Susan's POV and only getting told about what happened in retrospect.)

It seems to me like Lewis just wasn't that good at writing action scenes.

I don't know what his overall action-writing capacity was, but I suspect that this was a stylistic choice rather than pure ineptitude. If the details of the action aren't important to the story (by which I mean here plot turns and character development and/or atmosphere), there's no particular need to draw them out. While some parts of the audience are often going to be looking for a good action scene (I've certainly written and enjoyed many myself), the author may be utterly disinterested and just looking to get back to the main characters interacting with each other. I'm generally okay with that. (If I need to imagine what detailed action scenes are like for readers who are utterly disinterested in warfare, I just imagine them all replaced with the travel logistics scenes from the Left Behind series.)

There are, of course, exceptions - I remain vexed that Edmund's biggest moment in LWW is described only in a near-throwaway sentence after the fact, because whether you want to write action or not, I think the selfish character's sudden self-sacrificing leap deserves some attention.

Actually I think Lewis could write a pretty good action/fight scene when he put his mind to it, though on many occasion he seems happy to leave things vague. The fight at the stable in The Last Battle (the titular Last Battle, I suppose, though it's no more than a skirmish) is a very good fight scene that even goes into some tactical detail. The Space Trilogy also has a few violent scenes more intense than anything in Narnia - like Ransom's protracted, though deliberately somewhat anticlimactic, fight with the Un-man in Perelandra and particularly the rather stunningly gruesome climax of That Hideous Strength.

Sometimes, even when you really need a good night's sleep, it's even better to let yourself be surprised by joy. It's not Nikabrik's fault, but it's Nikabrik's loss.

Why do you assume that dancing with all those people would bring Nikabrik joy? It wouldn't bring me any. Perhaps Nika (if I may be familiar) is clumsy and knows from experience that dancing would only bring him humiliation. Or perhaps ( and more likely) he's an introvert who needs some time to himself to recharge. Being pounced upon by a group of strangers and dragged into social activity isn't everyone's cup of tea.

I hear you, Randall M. Dancing does not automatically bring joy to everyone, even when they're not getting swept up in it willy-nilly. From what I've read about C.S. Lewis himself, he seems rather introverted, and may well have preferred to stand aside rather than dance.

Even so, it still sounds like we're meant to read Nikabrik's looking on in silence as a negative thing. It's just the last of this chapter's many "but Nikabrik was different" moments. I can't help but wonder how Lewis felt when writing this, and if he had any internal conflict between his own feelings and his recognition of how his audience would perceive Nikabrik?

One "Midaz" is a typo probably not worth pointing out. However, it looks like you're consistently spelling Miraz with a "d". (Possibly the golden-touch guy is throwing you off?)

Yes, it looks like I did that approximately five separate times in the post. I have a hair's touch of dsylexia and Midaz and Miraz look almost identical to me and I've been struggling with that throughout the series so far (as I did with Edmund and Edward in LWW). Thank you for pointing that out -- I dislike typos in my work.

For comparison, here is how Lewis describes a duel in Till We Have Faces:You, the Greek for whom I write, may never have fought; or if you did, you fought, most likely, as a hoplite. Unless I were with you and had a sword, or at least a stick, in my hand I could not make you understand the course of it. I soon felt sure he could not kill me. But I was less sure I could kill him. I was very afraid lest the thing should last too long and his greater strength would grind me down. What I shall remember forever is the change that presently came over his face. It was to me an utter astonishment. I did not understand it. I should now. I have since seen the faces of other men as they began to believe, “This is death.” You will know it if you have seen it; life more alive than ever, a raging, tortured intensity of life. Then he made his first bad mistake, and I missed my chance. It seemed a long time (it was a few minutes really) before he made it again. That time I was ready for it. I gave the straight thrust and then, all in one motion, wheeled my sword round and cut him deeply in the inner leg where no surgery will stop the bleeding. I jumped back of course, lest his fall should bear me down with him; so my first man-killing bespattered me less than my first pig-killing.Now that I come to think of it, he only described the battle in HAHB in a kind of flashback, as the Hermit viewed it in a scrying pool.

Or, what would it tell us about their birds? I just read about a study which seemingly shows that the appearance of birds had almost as much to do with the disappearance of really large creepy-crawlies in our world as declining oxygen levels did.

But in Beowulf, there's an actual reason that Beowulf believes Grendel is evil, namely, Grendel eats people. He's not saying "It looks human but it's not!" or "We don't like that sort," he's saying "It's EATING PEOPLE, "And I'm saying, or trying to say, that Grendel doesn't eat people because he's an ogre. He's an ogre because he eats people.

some, in fact many, of Lewis's non-human creatures are people. The dwarves are people, and the dryads are people, and the Beavers are people. The centaurs are people, and the Talking Mice are people. In this, Lewis is, to my eye, not much different from Rowling at all. They may be people who are presented as broad cultural caricatures, or as good or bad mostly in terms of how they relate to our heroes

I can see that one way to read the dwarfs and dryads and centaurs is as "broad cultural caricatures." It makes sense to consider the ways in which the relationship of the Dwarfs to the humans is reminiscent of the relationship of the Jews or the Romany to the dominant culture.

But I think that there's another possible reading, in which the non-human races don't represent distinct cultural groups; rather, they represent certain traits and tendencies which are common to all human groups, isolated for individual consideration. In that sense, yes, they're all people. People are like Dwarfs when they're being ingenious and persevering and courageous, but with a tendency to apply those admirable characteristics in a rather short-sighted and self-centered fashion. People are like Centaurs when they pay attention to what the natural world is telling them, and are able to take the long view of what's going to be the result of things go on in the way they're going. The Talking Mice are people who remind us that honor and courage are not reserved to the large and the great.

And peopel are ogres when they're preying on other people and take pleasure in causing pain. "We don't like that sort" seems to me to be a perfectly reasonable response.

Why do you assume that dancing with all those people would bring Nikabrik joy? It wouldn't bring me any. Me, either, in real life. But this isn't real life, or a realistic novel. In this story, dancing doesn't bring joy, it is joy.

Music and dance are extremely important in all the Narnia books. Aslan created Narnia with music, remember? OK, that book was written after this one, but music and dance have been present in Narnia since the beginning. Every moment of victory or celebration or community is marked by music and dance.

"For surely we must suppose the life of the blessed to be an end in itself, indeed The End: to be utterly spontaneous; to be the complete reconciliation of boundless freedom with order–with the most delicately adjusted, supple, intricate, and beautiful order? " (C. S. Lewis, Letters to Malcolm)And what comes closest in this physical world to that ideal of reconciliation? Music and dance, which combine formal requirements with individual expressiveness to create beauty. To touch on joy.

To quote Eliot at you, the music of the fauns ismusic heard so deeplyThat it is not heard at all, but you are the musicWhile the music lasts.

Lewis says, in the same letter, that "Joy is the serious business of Heaven.” And these books, despite their numerous shortcomings, sometimes succeed in expressing a little bit of that spontaneous longing for joy, and the occasional, unlooked-for moments when the longing is answered.

And peopel are ogres when they're preying on other people and take pleasure in causing pain. "We don't like that sort" seems to me to be a perfectly reasonable response.

I can see that, but in the context I'm not totally convinced by it in this setting.

As I keep mentioning, Grendel eats people. He can eat people because he's an ogre, or be an ogre because he eats people, but he actually does...eat people. Lewis's ogres apparently just live in a declasse zip code. Does that make sense? The response from the other Narnians is not fear, or revulsion, or a knowledge of what ogres do to folk, it's a snobby response that would be perfect out of the mouth of someone explaining why he doesn't want to invite someone to join his golf club.

There's something about the scrubbed modernity of Narnia that makes me suspicious.

I'm not appalled by the line, per se, it just falls rather flat to me. No myffic resonance. And also, when they've just been casually talking about attacking farmsteads for no particular reason, the idea that they're separating themselves from people who prey on others seem a bit hollow.

Actually I think Lewis could write a pretty good action/fight scene when he put his mind to it, though on many occasion he seems happy to leave things vague.

From the descriptions in the Space Trilogy and the Screwtape Letters, I think he felt that the average big fight scene should be vague, because people in big fights are mostly confused all the time. That may have something to do with his time in the trenches in WWI, I dunno.

There's something about the scrubbed modernity of Narnia that makes me suspicious.

I'm not appalled by the line, per se, it just falls rather flat to me. No myffic resonance. Yeah, I can see that. This is probably one of those places where Lewis's style doesn't match his substance.

And you're right about the farmstead plan, too. Maybe it's one of those clashing-myths kinds-of-things? We're wobbling between the myth of the hero who fights embodied evil to the death, and the myth of the romantic outlaw resistance where no one gets hurt who doesn't deserve it. From Beowulf to Robin Hood in one fell swoop.

I typed that, and then I started thinking about "fell swoop." After all, there's nothing "fell" in the sense of "evil" about a sudden change of literary trope. "Fell swoop" is just one of those cliches. But I was amused to read, in World Wide Words, Since fell swoop doesn’t mean anything to most English speakers these days, it’s frequently changed to foul swoop. For example, this appeared in a letter to the Daily Mail on 1 November 2006: “If the inadequate ones go to the wall, tough. In one foul swoop you get rid of all the repeat offenders, the murderers - all the violent scum.” .

An interesting example; it sounds like the writer means "sudden swoop." But, although we don't have context, anything that begins with “If the inadequate ones go to the wall, tough" is quite likely also to be a foul-meaning-fell idea.

By the way, I think Lewis meant for Nikabrik to be a complex and somewhat sympathetic villain - or what would pass for one by Narnia standards - and that his occasionally seeming like the reasonable guy isn't completely unintentional. That said, of course I agree that his portrayal is intensely problematic for a number of excellent reasons as we saw last week.

This is the good and bad in Lewis. He made Fully fledged Charachters which the reader could judge one way or another. Then he made his own judgment and imposed it on the readers. This happened with Nikabrik, and this wil happen to Susan (even later in this book where her Aslan-scepticism will be ridiculed). BUT, by fleshing the charachter fully, Lewis gives the reader the opportunity to spell hir own judgment, overriding the text. That's why we can find Nikabrik and Susan attractive, and this is why Lewis is a great author despite his ideology-based judgment.

Leaving Tolkien out of this, although this applied to him as well, some, in fact many, of Lewis's non-human creatures are people. The dwarves are people, and the dryads are people, and the Beavers are people. The centaurs are people, and the Talking Mice are people. In this, Lewis is, to my eye, not much different from Rowling at all. They may be people who are presented as broad cultural caricatures, or as good or bad mostly in terms of how they relate to our heroes: once again, how not like Rowling?

In Narnia, Talking Beasts are not human in animal form, they are sentient animals. A Beaver has all natural instincts of a beaver, in addition to sentience. Dvarves are indeed "free" in the sence they can be good or bad. A dryad is a sentient tree spirit, and so on. While they may defy their instincts, it is very rare, so there are only few good giants, and apparently no good orcs. As for Rowling, the passing analogy would be to Dementors. Dumbledure repeatedly (and futtilely) warns Fudge that Dementors cannot be trusted, that they are Evil,Evil,Evil, and that nothing good will ever come from allying with them - and he is right, the Dementors work for Voldemort the second he is back. Same goes for Inferi. They are Evil!, and an alliance with them is always ill-fated for the good guys.

That's interesting, about the fell-means-evil. I think I've always read it as a 'false friend' of the Dutch 'fel' (as in 'fel' light = bright light, a 'felle' battle = heavy battle, generally meaning intense, fierce, sudden, quick, sharp) - not a peaceful word by any means, but not necessarily evil. Guess I'm going to have to re-interpret all the 'fell swoops' I've ever read or written, if it means more than just a quick-but-comprehensive action.

Well, according to various on-line dictionaries, "fell" by itself can mean "evil" or "deadly" or "dangerous."*nods to DragonessEclectic*

"Fell swoop" as a phrase has lost that association with evil, and just means something "sudden and effective." Quick and comprehensive, in fact.

That's why I thought it was funny that people are apparently making an eggcorn out of the phrase, replacing the almost-meainingless fell with the not-so-far-from-the-original-but-not-the-same-thing foul.

And then I re-read that example, and started wondering about go to the wall...

So it has absolutely nothing to do with firing squads, then?

(I have never encountered the expression before this. When I saw it the thing that came to mind was "first up against the wall when the revolution comes", though now I'm wondering if I interpreted that entirely correctly.)

(I have never encountered the expression before this. When I saw it the thing that came to mind was "first up against the wall when the revolution comes", though now I'm wondering if I interpreted that entirely correctly.)

It means, "the Marketing Division of the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation," of course.

As I wrote before, the problem with Lewis is precisely that when you read his books, it often is as if there were two authors - one a brilliant, creative , compelling storyteller, and another a reactionary, anvilivious, life-hating, misogynic ideologist. The question is, can you read the storyteller and suppress the ideologist?

I agree entirely with your analysis of Lewis here--but I think that it does make him a severe offender. For one thing, if you fail to write strong female characters because you've never even imagined the concept, well, okay. That's unfortunate, but you're not to blame for having a limited imagination. If you fail to write strong female characters because you've considered the possibility and actively decided not to--in a book series that is filled with moral allegory and advice to children on how to behave--then you're an ass....note that we never see the Powers That Be approve of Jill and Lucy's fighting.......And that's what makes the "battles are ugly when women fight" line in LWW so maddening--it's explicitly declaring that Action Girls are bad. To my mind, that's quite a bit more reactionary than simply not having any of them.

I absolutely agree on Ideology - here Lewis was indeed awful, even for his time Lewis was maddeningly misogynistic in his ideology. And whatever he tells the audience is absolutely maddeningly reactionary. Lewis believed in pre-set heirarchies, and those are pervading his morals. As Pullmann put it, for Lewis "...boys are better than girls; light-coloured people are better than dark-coloured people; and so on..." This is horrible, and for that, Lewis truly is an ass.BUT -and this is so many people still read Lewis - what he tells is often not what he shows.. Lucy and jill, as the stories progressed, became at least partially Action Girls - Lucy in THAHB and Jill at the end of "Silver Chair" and in "Last Battle". They are not officially approved but are they barred from entering Aslan's country for that? No, and the text shows us that dying while fighting the good fight is heroic and right for boys and girls. Who is barred? Susan. Who is now all for "nylons and lipstick and invitations" - things definitely far away from being an Action Girl. So while we never get official condining of action girls, the narrative still presents them as superior to "Girly girl" alternative - though OTOH, turning Susan, the original Plucky Girl - independent, athletic, rational - into silly airhead who, in THAHB, doesn't even fight in the war she is partially responsible for - such a switcheroo is pathetic and anti-woman in its own right. It is blatantly obvious that Lewis didn't like women, so he "officially" disdained Action Girls, and "inofficially" disdained Girly Girls. Yet if one were to forego the "official" statements, Action Girls are actually favored.

Regarding the "Eternal winter": I think that Lewis simply envisioned this a s permafrost. Note that England, located on island and warmed by Gulf stream, is said to have no winter, bacause there is little to no snow in the winter months - you just get rain and little sun during most of the year, and more sun (and slightly warmer days) in the summertime. This would also prevent problems with other countries, as they would simply be warmer...

I, personally, do not like it. I don't like it because it seems to indicate that form dictates behavior and personality in a way that I'm not at all comfortable with because of the various implications contained therein for Otherkin and Transgendered peoplesARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS.

Hanging around the Slacktimorons has rotted your brain. Or is that "ableist" now? BTW: BIRTH AS A METAPHOR!! BOOGA BOOGA!!!!

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